


Raucous Rampart

by Snarkoleptic



Series: Other Bits and Bobs [8]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarkoleptic/pseuds/Snarkoleptic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elissa Cousland thought she wanted a moment away from her life, but friends both old and new conspire instead to draw her out of herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raucous Rampart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frayed One](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Frayed+One).



> Happy early birthday to Frayed One at FanFiction.net! Once again, she has thrown caution to the wind and handed me the keys to her characters as I hinted that I might want to give her a little amusement for her birthday.
> 
> This story is set between the events at the close of Act 2 and Act 3 in the Dragon Age timeline, which is well ahead of where Fray’s published writing has reached at the time of this writing. For that reason, it’s important for readers of her work to note that anything I may write is in no way part of her extensively developed canon. Honest Antivan, I don’t know nothin’.
> 
> Foreign language is translated at the end, this time.
> 
> With half-hearted apologies to several notable Kirkwall figures and random passersby, it’s time to have some fun at their expense.  
> 
> 
> * * *

It occurred to Elissa as she slipped out of a twisting alley and into the docks that she’d hear about this little excursion later, but right now she couldn’t bring herself to care.  It would be worth it, just to have a bit of time to herself.  She wouldn’t have thought finding time to get away would be that difficult, but there had seemed to be some demand or other on her time almost since she’d gotten off the boat in Kirkwall.  The wedding she’d come to attend had been done and over with for what felt like forever, Aveline and Donnic well on their way to Orlais, and still people were crawling out of the woodwork to vie for her attention.

Elissa would much rather have gotten away at night, having seen the scaffolding that had gone up to mark the new construction in that part of the district that had once been home to the visiting Qunari.  The symbols draped over the lifts and rises bore a resemblance to Chantry imagery that was a little too striking for her to be completely comfortable, but she doubted she’d run into anyone who knew her among the workmen.  Even had there not been any number of ladders strewn about, some of them left propped to reach the top of the wall that separated the docks from the lower markets in Lowtown, she’d been confident that she could scale the structures to look out over the city from above.  As midday had just passed she may be stopped by any number of the workers, but who knew better than she how far one could get simply by looking as if they belonged?

It certainly wasn’t the quiet solitude she could find of an evening on the ramparts at Vigil’s keep, but a space of time to relax the muscles strained by days of schooling her face into a polite smile, just a few hours all to herself, would be... bliss.

So it was that Elissa found herself severely displeased when the sun had barely moved across the sky, and already she heard someone climbing up the ladder that had brought her to her private little section of the city wall.  Out of habit, her hands strayed to the grips of her daggers as she turned, ready to defend herself if anything more serious than an inconvenient workman presented itself.  The breath that had caught in her throat blew out as she recognized the dusky face that popped up above the crenellations a moment later.

“Isabela, how in Thedas...?”

“Nice to see you, too, Sweetness.”  The pirate waggled her brows as she pulled herself up.  “You do realize there isn’t any magic in the world that can treat the sunburn you’ll get if you spend _too_ much time up here?”

Elissa leveled a glare at her old friend.  “It would have been worth it, had I been able to finish a private thought.  How did you find me?”

“Would you believe it was a lucky guess?”

“Since you put it that way... Absolutely not.”

Isabela let out a gusty sigh and leaned against a battlement.  “Fine.  Doesn’t take a genius to have seen you prefer the high places, and this is the easiest one to reach the way the city is now.  Between them, Nathaniel and Zevran are in such a state over your disappearance it’s a wonder they haven’t killed each other with all the finger-pointing.  What are you privately thinking about?”

“I’m not about to go off on a tear, if that’s what people are worried about.  I swear I can’t even take a bath without people whispering about what I’ll get up to.”

An appreciative look lit the pirate’s eye.  “I can think of any number of worthwhile things to get up to in the bath.  _Do_ tell.”

Laughing in spite of herself, Elissa wondered if perhaps solitude might not have been the release valve she needed today.  Humor might do the trick just as well.  “Sadly, Amaranthine isn’t known for its tuber crops.”

Taking this as invitation, the Rivaini poked her head around the crenellation and issued a whistle she hadn’t had reason to use since she’d been in command of a ship.  Seeing Merrill’s attention turn away from a harassed-looking porter at the sound, she called, “Up here, Kitten!  And mind the one with the wonky eye; I had to threaten to bleed him a bit on the way past!”

“Isabela!  Do we need that kind of attention?”

“Certainly not from _him_.  What?  Would you rather the poor girl get herself molested?  You should see this man.  First I’ve ever met capable of ogling tits and ass at the same time.”

Merrill reached the top of the wall as Elissa burst into laughter.  “Have I missed something dirty?  I always miss something dirty.”

“Not for long if you’re stopping here with us, Kitten.”

Never having been up this high, Merrill let out a sharp gasp.  “You can see forever from up here!  Look!  There’s the Hanged Man, and the armor stall with that creepy Smith man...”  Entranced, the elf darted to and fro among the crates that had been lifted, turning about to see what else she could spot.

“Creepy Smith man?”  Elissa cocked a brow at Isabela.

“One of the silent types.  Practically have to drag every other word out of his mouth.  Of course, that’s assuming you’d want to hear what he has to say.  Come on, then, your turn.  What about... ooh, _that_ one, leaning up across from the Hanged Man?  He’s forever asking Hawke when we pass about his past associations in Kirkwall.”

“Does Hawke ever answer?  Never mind; I wouldn’t if I were him.  Anyone whose hair is so thoroughly plastered to his head surely can’t be trusted with personal details.”

Isabela was about to offer what looked to be a delighted response when the ladder started rattling against the wall.  Muffled cursing soon reached their ears, a familiar voice eventually calling up in frustration.  “Maker’s breath!  Of all places!  Do you have any bloody idea how hard it is to manage a ladder in these robes?”  After what Elissa thought must have been a rather exaggerated and prolonged struggle, Hawke finally crested the battlements and sagged theatrically against a crate.

“Aww,” the pirate teased, “didn’t I say you should go back to your old leathers?”

“Use your imagination, Isabela,” the mage tossed back with a wink.  “You’ve seen it all out of the leathers enough by now you ought to be able to draw a map.”

“Funny.  I always seem to get stuck on _point ‘A...’_ ”

Elissa held up a hand.  “Please!  There are some things he might think I don’t need to hear.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Hawke suggested.  “One can never have too many admirers.  On that subject...”  Closing his eyes, Hawke lifted a finger toward the sky, twirling a lazy stream of fire into the air and holding it there for a few moments.  “No point in letting the others keep searching where you won’t be found.” 

Even as the mage hollered down to the startled workers - “Champion of Bloody Kirkwall!  Don’t fret yourselves!” - the group noticed a couple of runners heading out from the Hanged Man.

“I suppose that’s one way to get attention,” Elissa offered.  “And I was _so_ hoping to avoid having to kill any templars during this trip.”

“They wouldn’t come after Hawke,” Merrill trilled, rejoining the others after deciding there was nothing more to see.  “Not so soon after he saved them, anyway.  I’m sure Meredith must remember.”

“Don’t look now,” Isabela pointed as she spoke so they’d all look now, “but we do appear to have drawn a bit more attention.”

“I’ve got this one.”  Hawke leaned out, recognizing the viscount’s seneschal out for one of his almost weekly visits with one of the less reputable ladies of the district.  “Nice to see you, Bran!  We gathered ingredients for more of the salve last Tuesday, so _do_ enjoy yourself!”

Elissa lost herself in the humor, recalling Bran’s attitude during the handful of conversations she’d had with him.  “I always thought he’d be the type to exploit his position among the nobility.”

“Seems that way, doesn’t he?”  Isabela chuckled.  “Personally, I’ve always thought he comes out here because he has to depend rather heavily on the motion of the ocean, as they say.  Can’t get Anders to confirm one way or the other, more’s the pity.”

“Oh, look!”  Hawke stepped back from the gap in the battlements to make room at the top of the ladder.  “Another friend come to play.”

Nathaniel didn’t bother to climb fully to the top, choosing instead to glare at Elissa as soon as he was able to see her.  He didn’t need to speak; she’d known coming here that he wouldn’t be happy with her disappearing act.

“You can see I’m not alone, Nathaniel.”  Elissa met his gaze and crossed her arms, making clear that she had no intention of leaving just yet.

The archer’s head disappeared again after a moment, as he retreated silently down the ladder. 

Isabela was the one to break the silence, turning a speculative eye on Elissa.  “Speaking of oceans...  I’ll bet _that_ one doesn’t even need to think about them.”

“And you assume I’d know?”

“You must.  You’ve known the man for years.”

“And you assume I’d know?”  Elissa repeated, her face giving away nothing.

“Oh, come _on_.  I’ll show you _his_ ,” the pirate entreated, gesturing at Hawke.

“He’s standing right here!”

Hawke seemed unconcerned.  “I’m sure you wouldn’t be the first to hear about it.  I already know Varric has been too much of a gentleman to publish anything, though not, he says, for lack of effort on her part.”

“But she’s offering, right in front of you, to tell me about _your_ part!”  Elissa wasn’t truly scandalized, but _Merrill_ was here, after all.

Hawke still didn’t appear to be bothered.  “I happen to be very attached to it.  I can trust her not to do me any slander, and you know now she’s on the subject she’ll just get it out of Zevran later if you don’t spill it now.”

Elissa looked back at Isabela, who in the meantime had selected one of her throwing knives - all right, _knife_ really didn’t seem to do the blade justice - and begun twirling it about her fingers with a meaningful look on her face.  Eyes wide, Elissa made her decision.  She owed him for the _look_ he’d given her just now, after all.  Raising her hands, palms flat, she spread them apart in what she thought was an accurate representation.

Hawke’s brows winged up briefly while he choked out a cough, while Isabela crowed in amazement. 

“Might even give the former residents from down below a run for their money,” the pirate speculated.  “ _Saaraad_ , indeed.”

“Isabela!”  Hawke mocked reproach.  “You said in Orlais you hadn’t read the Tome.”

“What?  All those nights at sea without company?  I had to have _something_ to do.”

All three turned toward Merrill in surprise when she spoke softly, as they certainly hadn’t expected comment from her during this discussion.  “ _Nehn sahlin, souveri bel’mahviren_.”

“What’s that, Kitten?”

“Hmm?  Oh!  It’s just something I used to hear Keeper Marethari say sometimes, usually after Hahren Paivel passed by on his way, somewhere.  ‘Joy today, weary for many tomorrows.’  What do you suppose she meant by that?”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Qunari translation:** saaraad - dangerous unit


End file.
